


Mythologies

by Siobhan_Schuyler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-03
Updated: 2006-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhan_Schuyler/pseuds/Siobhan_Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Jo grew up in backseats. Whereas Sam claims to want to forget everything about the Impala's bench seats, Jo does her best to remember sitting in the back of her mom's car and watching her parents bicker or laugh or say nothing at all, her dad's hand sometimes creeping across the stick shift to palm her mom's knee, affectionate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mythologies

**Author's Note:**

> A "No Exit" (SPN 2x28) coda.

Sam and Jo grew up in backseats. Whereas Sam claims to want to forget everything about the Impala's bench seats, Jo does her best to remember sitting in the back of her mom's car and watching her parents bicker or laugh or say nothing at all, her dad's hand sometimes creeping across the stick shift to palm her mom's knee, affectionate.

The images are unsteady, stuttering. She struggles to remember. She tells Dean about it when he's pushing hot hands across her bare back, the ring on his finger body-temperature when it scrapes softly over her hip, like his teeth in her neck, his necklace between her shoulderblades. She tells him because maybe it's like dreams and you have to say them outloud for them to stick. Dean hums in understanding and maybe he does gets it. Jo takes his face in her hands and watches his brow furrow when he comes, looking far too focused on her when she feels so flimsy, insubstantial.

She doesn't say anything to Sam but he asks anyway, the warm length of him, shoulders to ankles, curving around her. Next to her, Dean's snoring, asleep, content. A hand curled loosely over his groin, an arm over his head. She can feel Sam's heart thudding against her shoulderblade, skin on skin, and his question carving shivers in her ear. She'd break out in goosebumps if his arm, loose around her ribcage, wasn't holding her down, unbreachable, safe.

"I can't remember," she admits with a lick of tears in the back of her throat. Sam doesn't mind girls crying.


End file.
